Dumbledore's Army
Mrs. Weasley was attempting to brush her hair out of her face and mumbling something about needing to be more presentable when Hermione batted her hands away politely and escaped onto the train. She hadn’t seen Draco or Theo yet, and she could start to feel the panic building in her chest that she knew wouldn’t be relieved until she knew that they were both okay. She made her way towards the back of the train, ignoring the rest of the students that she had to shove past on the way there. When she slid the cart open it was empty, and she felt the panic ebb, spreading through her chest.
She fought back a panicked breath and sat on the seat. They’re just not here yet, it’s fine. Her nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood and her jaw hurt from grinding her teeth together in an effort to stop herself from breaking into panicked breaths. She was hanging on by a thread, as she slowly watched some of the Slytherins she knew peer into the cart before disappearing. Why did Pansy, Daphne and Blaise all peer through the window but none of them came inside? Why did Crabbe and Goyle stare at her through the window for a moment before disappearing?
She was about to fall apart, and fling herself from her seat if only to search the entire train when she saw the familiar blonde head appear behind the glass. His eyes were cast downward, on his shoes and he slipped into the car quietly, resting his forehead on the glass. For a moment, she realized that he must have thought that he was alone and she stood, her hands falling to her sides. “Draco..”
Although it was just a whisper, she watched him whirl around towards her. He looked stressed, bruises underneath his eyes indicated that he had not been sleeping well. He wasn’t wearing his robes like usual, instead he was dressed in a suit, black jacket with a black shirt underneath. Draco had gotten taller, only by a little and his gray eyes widened at the sight of her. She stood still, unsure of what to do or how to approach him. She wasn’t sure what he had been through this summer and part of her was terrified to ask. She didn’t want to know if he thought of her differently. She was terrified and yet every single muscle was tensing from her attempting not to throw herself into his arms.
Draco took a hesitant step forward, his gray eyes softening to silver as he took inventory of her. She let him look her over, knowing that the only way to convince Draco that she was fine was for him to see it himself. Her eyes closed for a moment, knowing that he was safe, and her worry attempted to make an appearance as a strangled gasp broke from her lips. In a moment arms were around her, and she was pressed against a hard chest. Draco’s hands ran up her hips, one smoothing it’s way up her back and all the way into her hair, tangling his fingers into the unruly curls. A long inhale against her head blew his scent straight into her senses as they washed over her with a sense of calm. Apples, mint and parchment.
Apples, mint and parchment.
She focused on the smell of him, the feel of his jacket that she was crumpling with her fist, his hot breath against her neck, the way that his arm felt around her waist and tangled into her hair. He was right here in front of her. Slowly, he pulled back, his hands sliding from their positions only to cup her cheeks instead. “Alright, Granger?”
A nod was all that she could manage, her words failing. Carefully, he tilted his head down, a slow descent that gave her time to decline before his lips were brushing against hers in a soft caress. She stepped onto her tiptoes, dragging her hands up his chest and tangling them into his hair instead. He released a sigh against her lips and his tongue swiped against her bottom lip as he stumbled backwards with her, her back pressing against the wall. She opened, allowing him inventory of her mouth as he caressed her with his tongue. When they pulled apart they were both panting, and he rested his forehead against hers.
“I was worried about you all summer.” Her fingers dragged across his jaw, resting her thumbs against the bags underneath his eyes. “Where’s Theo?”
His eyes snapped open, hand resting against her hip as he stared at her. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to talk to him really all summer…I saw him a few times at the Manor but…” He trailed off, his gaze fixing on a point over her shoulder.
“How bad is it? How bad is he?” Draco winced, refusing to meet her eyes and she knew that his answer was written all over his reaction. “Draco…if anything happens to him I promise that I will kill that man myself.”
Draco snorted. “Funny, Theo and I say the same thing about quite a few people that seem to find themselves in your presence on a normal basis.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow but before she could open her mouth the door to the car was thrown open and Blaise carried a rough looking Theo in his arms. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat as Draco stepped away from her, and towards her brother. His hair was tangled, hanging limply against his forehead, left eye swollen shut in a dark bruising cut, blood trickled from his lip and down his chin. He was limping and wheezing and for a moment all Hermione could see was red. She wanted to storm off of the train and inflict every wound that Tiberius had dared to give Theo. In that moment, she was sure that if needed she could cast the Killing Curse.
Her legs finally worked again and she made her way across the cart, dropping to her knees in front of the chair that Blaise set him carefully into. Theo’s one good blue eye met hers, widening before narrowing. “Hermione…get out I don’t want you here for this.”
“Over my dead body, Theo.” They locked eyes, brown and blue clashing in a sea of unspoken words before he gritted his teeth together and nodded. She pulled her wand from the holster in her dress and carefully started healing the wounds that she could see. His eye was still bruised when she was done, but all of the cuts had stitched together and disappeared. He was attempting to convince her that was all but she could hear the pain lacing his words. She stood, crossing her arms in front of her as she glared at him. “Take off your shirt. Now.”
Draco hissed. “Bloody hell. I really hope that the only other man I hear you say that to is him.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and Blaise bit back a laugh. “Oh bugger off, Malfoy.” Theo was still glaring at her and she raised a brow at him. “Theo. I really have no interest in having Blaise forcibly undressing you, please. Based on the sounds that you’re making when you breathe I’m almost positive that you at least have a broken rib. Now, let me heal it or I will find a way to join you next summer when you return home if it’s only to kill the man myself.”
Theo inhaled sharply, glaring at her, before slowly shrugging from his shirt. Blaise helped him with the buttons, his cheeks a light pink and Hermione tucked that information away for later. All thoughts and feelings besides anger vanished when the shirt was pushed back from his shoulders. Theo’s light skin was bruised, different sizes and shapes all along his torso, and a large bruise spread along his left rib cage, from his hip all the way to just underneath his armpit.
Hermione hissed, clenching her teeth together as she tried desperately to control the shaking in her hands. As she healed him to the best of her ability, under Theo’s instructions she knew that she made three silent vows to herself.
Theo was never stepping foot into that house again without her, if ever again.
She was going to be practicing healing spells in her room all year.
And that she was going to kill Tiberius Nott.
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The four of them quietly made their way off the train, Crookshanks tucked tightly to her chest and they stopped, staring at the carriages. She had always been able to see the Thestrals, as did Blaise and Theo but this time, Draco was the one whose eyes widened. She realized–he had seen death. They all had seen death. Four children staring at a horse that did nothing but remind them that they weren’t really children after all.
Death didn’t care about innocence.
They were all silent, eyes flitting back and forth between each other as they made their way to the castle. Theo had been standoffish, attempting to stay away from her but she could see him gravitating towards her. Draco and Theo were orbiting around her as if she was the sun. She wondered if they knew that they provided the same amount of warmth for her as well.
Dumbledore’s speech was normal, announcing Hagrid on leave, and the usual ever growing list of banned items that were included on Filch’s list on the back of his door. However, when he announced Deloros Umbridge, the pug-faced woman wearing far too much pink cleared her throat and made her way to the front of the podium where Dumbledore was. Draco stiffened next to her, the tendons in his arm flexing as he balled his fist on the table.
The woman introduced herself, droning on and on about the Ministry and changes that are yet to come. Hermione stiffened alongside Draco now, clinging to the words that she knew meant something different than what everybody knew.
Nobody believed Harry about Voldemort coming back. But yet Umbridge was basically acknowledging it in between her words. Know only the changes occurring, are for the best. Change prevents the destruction of our civilization from its own decay.
Hermione found that the evil-toad woman just so happened to run her classes the same way.
Ron had found himself sitting next to Hermione and she had waited anxiously for Harry to show up although he was late and caused five points to be taken. The vile woman had ignored her hand in the air as she stalked the isle, explaining a new and improved class course that would diminish their ability to learn to defend themselves.
Umbridge insisted that she wouldn’t need to use the spells outside of the class and managed to degrade her, reminding her that she wasn’t a Ministry official and that the classes were approved by one. Harry on the other hand had been enraged, used Voldemort's name in class and been told that he was a liar.
Harry had circled his desk, approaching hers with a cold fury as he asked what happened to Cedric if Voldemort wasn’t the one who killed him. Hermione followed after him, attempting to calm him down. He shrugged her off and she threw a glance over her shoulder at Draco and Theo who were glaring at Harry. Umbridge glared at both of them.
“Both of you have gained yourself a week's worth of detention.”
“Only a week? Could’ve done better than that.” Harry stormed out of the classroom, cursing under his breath. Hermione stared after him. His anger was through the roof, she had never seen him act like this–completely unhinged. Crazy. Umbridge handed her a slip of paper and Hermione ripped it from her hands, glaring at her. Gathering her stuff, she was preparing to storm from the classroom. If all that she had to do was read the book she could do that from her room. She didn’t want to attend a single class that the evil woman was teaching.
“Grab Harry’s stuff when you leave.” She whispered to Ron and he nodded, his blue eyes wide.
Hermione took off after Harry through the halls, trying to keep her stuff from scattering into the hallway. He was standing in McGonagall’s office, panting and red faced. Hermione approached carefully and handed McGonagall the slip of paper. She glanced down at it, raising her eyebrow at him.
“Did you really yell at Professor Umbridge?”
Harry nodded, glaring at the floor with a scowl. “She called me a liar.”
“Harry. You must not be so reckless. The Order is only able to interfere with so much, we are only able to do so much and our reach only extends so far. You must start using your head to make decisions. I know that she is a…vile…woman but she is reporting directly to the Ministry. Anything untoward that happens will only reflect negatively on Dumbledore. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
Her eyes were focused on Harry, who seemed to have deflated as his shoulders dropped. “Yes Professor.”
When he left the room, she gazed at Hermione, exhaling carefully. “You need to be especially careful my dear. You are Unsorted. If something happens she could make a rule that you are unable to attend classes unless sorted into a house. Things can get much worse here. Things are already barely hanging together as it is. Look after him will you?”
Hermione nodded, worrying her cheek between her teeth.
“Always.”
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Hermione followed after Harry who had just received a firm lashing from Angelina about his detention falling at the same time as Quidditch practice and tryouts. Harry was walking quickly, glaring at the floor and she yanked on his arm, pulling him into a secluded part of the hallway. “Harry.”
“What, Hermione?”
She glared at him. “This isn’t you. You know this isn’t you.”
“Oh yeah? And how would you know that? Been spending all of your time with Malfoy and Nott you don’t even know who I am.” Hermione slammed him back into the wall when he tried to shove past her, glaring at his green eyes.
“Harry, I know who you are. I know so many details about you that it would make my head spin to relay them all. Most of all, I know how incredibly hard it is to carry guilt about a death where nobody believes you. When I was at the Orphanage there was a girl who…” Hermione swallowed. “She killed herself. Died in my arms and I watched the light fade from her eyes. There was nothing that I could do to save her. That was the first time that I ever felt my magic. Nobody believed me when I said that I wasn’t able to talk her out of it or stop the bleeding. They all assumed that I had something to do with it. I was the oldest there, a freak that nobody wanted.” She gulped, swallowing down the girl's eyes that she had tried not to think about for years. “You are allowing all of the ugly to swallow you up and take you whole. You do not get to give them the satisfaction of allowing them to break you. You do not get to diminish yourself and your worth to meet the standards of those around you. Break in front of me if you have to, but do not allow everybody around you to know that you’re falling apart.”
Harry was staring at her, eyes wide and mouth slack. She released him, waiting a moment for him to gather himself before he followed after her to Umbridge’s office quietly. The evil woman was waiting in an office that made her want to Avada herself. She loved Crookshanks–but this–this was far too many cats in one place. Almost every piece of furniture was pink, soft plush pink carpet and gold framed photos of moving cats as they mewed at them. She was pacing, smiling a smile that made Hermione sick to her stomach. Both of them sank into chairs that were next to a small desk in the corner, a blood red quill sitting on the table in front of them along with a blank piece of parchment.
Her eyes widened when she realized just what the quill is as Harry reaches for it. She smiles at him, before glancing back at Umbridge. “Professor, I-is there any way that I could offer to take Harry’s lines. I'll double if he is able to attend the Quidditch tryout. I’ll come for two weeks if you’d prefer.”
Umbridge was staring at her, her head cocked to the side. “I would prefer if Harry was able to understand the absurdity of his actions by himself. It won’t…sink in…unless he attends his detentions. I am afraid that’s non negotiable.”
Hermione pressed her lips together. A plan was forming in her head. Harry couldn’t take this. He couldn’t take the pressure that this was going to inflict. This had the potential to break him. Hermione could. She could shoulder this. She could do this for him. Casting a glance at Harry who was looking at her confused, she pressed her hand into his knee underneath the table, hoping that he understood the desperate plea in her eyes to follow her lead.
“Honestly, Professor. He just has been under a lot of pressure lately. You see, Dumbledore told him not that he couldn’t afford to be behind in his classes, and that he needed to stay out of trouble. He didn’t care about Harry seeing somebody that he loved die…there wasn’t anything that he offered him for his grief. Harry understands his actions and the implications. I’m afraid that this would…break Harry and then Harry would make horrible decisions. I’m worried that is what Dumbledore wants. He wants him to be vulnerable. Quidditch is the only thing that makes him happy and I think that his mood would be greatly influenced if he was allowed to attend. His mind isn’t as easily swayed and persuaded by negative influence when he is allowed sleep.”
Umbridge seemed to be dangling onto that piece of information. “After he writes his lines for today. That should be enough. You can take on the rest afterwards.”
Hermione swallowed. If Harry saw what that Quill did then he wouldn’t let her do it for him. “Professor, while I agree with your methods, and I understand them ... .I worry that Harry would be more understanding if he used his own Quill. I would hate for him to make a fuss with Dumbledore and fight me doing his lines, I already know that he doesn’t agree with me taking on his schoolwork as it is.”
Harry was staring at her strangely, his eyes flicking between the red quill and her minutely. They widened and narrowed on her. Umbridge nodded, removing the quill from the table and instructing Harry to write his lines with his own Quill. Hermione sat perfectly still while Harry wrote, waiting patiently for him to finish. He was staring at her every now and then, a crease forming between his brows.
When Harry was dismissed, he hovered in the doorway, staring back at her puzzled and she nodded, smiling brightly. Umbridge ushered him from the room, turning to stare at her. “Now dear, don’t try something like that again. When I say something, it is set into stone, are we clear?” Hermione nodded. Maybe she could make this work after all.
“I apologize for my outburst in class today. I prefer a more hands on learning method and I understand that the Ministry is more about us understanding the material instead of ensuring that we should have to use it. Harry is my best friend and I worry about him, Dumbledore has him stretched thin telling him that he has to report back to him about his teachers. I didn’t want him thinking that he had anything to report back on you.”
Umbridge was staring at her, as though she was trying to dissect her. Hermione would do anything to protect the people that she loved. This, if this was what she thought it was, it would break him. It would be the push over the edge into the dark side that he was straddling. It had somehow taken root inside of him deeply enough to affect attitude. He was dripping in negativity now.
Umbridge stalked towards her, placing the Quill on the table in front of her. “A week's worth of detention, and you must now write me two lines instead of one. I want this parchment filled. I must not tell lies and I will respect my Professors.”
Hermione swallowed then picked up the Quill and began to write. She didn’t give Umbridge the satisfaction of the hiss that threatened to break from her lips. Instead, her teeth ground together and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over from her eyes. By the end of the night her hand was bleeding profusely, the cuts deep and she stood dizzily. Faintly, she remembered to smile at Umbridge as she left.
As soon as she was in the hallway she leaned against the wall, clutching her arm against her chest. There was only one thought that managed to push itself to the forefront of her mind as she stumbled into her room, pale and dizzy from the bloodloss.
She was definitely going to be practicing her healing this year.
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The week went on like that, and Hermione found herself good at healing. The problem was trying to avoid everybody without setting off alarms. Harry had given her a thorough once-over, thankfully only after the first session where she was able to heal everything except for a small scratch that had developed on her hand. Theo and Draco took her excuses with narrowed eyes; she was tired, she was trying to make sure that Harry was okay because he was acting off this week. All of them seemed to be working in the beginning but as the week drew on, she found herself exhausted.
Her hand throbbed so badly that she was starting to fall behind in her other classes, unable to keep up with her schoolwork. More and more scars developed on her hand and she developed a habit for her fingers twitching against her will. The muscles weren’t something she was able to heal as easily. Going to the Infirmary wasn’t something she was willing to do, Madam Pomfrey would’ve made a big deal about it. People would’ve found out.
Harry grabbed her elbow, steering her into an alcove as he stared at her with narrowed green eyes. She was serving her last detention with Dolores tonight. Carefully, she shuffled her bag, tucking her hand underneath the strap, fighting a wince as the fabric brushed against her skiin. “What’s going on, Hermione?”
“What do you mean?”
“You must know something. Filch tried to intercept my mail the other day, Ron made it onto the Quidditch team. Ronald just got a note from Percy to cut ties with me and make sure that he is allied with Dolores, so I ask again. What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything, Harry. I have suspicions. But I don’t actually know anything.” She glanced around, terrified of being found out.
“Hermione. Why didn’t you let me have detention with her?”
“Because. She wants to break you Harry and you’re already close to doing that to yourself. Whatever she is doing here isn’t good. We are deliberately not learning anything remotely useful about defending ourselves. Whether or not this is coming from the Ministry itself, it seems to be vital that we’re not being allowed to learn anything useful. They must have gotten word about the Order and think that Dumbledore is training us to fight Voldemort.”
Harry nodded, rubbing his hand across his forehead with a wince. “The pain is getting worse now.”
Hermione studied him for a moment. “Harry?”
“What?”
“I think that we might need to build our own group…people who want to learn. People who believe.”
“How do you suppose we do something like that?”
The anger swelling inside of her from the past week was bubbling from the surface. “I don’t know. But we need an outlet, we need to learn and we need to find someplace to do it.”
“Alright, I’ll keep my eye out.”
Hermione nodded, and Harry slipped from the alcove. She slumped against it, closing her eyes as she fought off another bout of dizziness. She didn’t sleep very well last night, but the thought of forming a group of people that were wanting to do something made her prickle with excitement.
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She ignored the aching in her hand as she made her way to Hog’s Head. They had agreed on a meeting point, and there was a rather large group of people that had shown up. The last lines that she had done still hadn’t healed, scarred against her flesh deeply enough that she cast a notice-me-not charm on it and attempted a glamor. She wasn’t sure if either was going to hold.
Hermione cast her eyes around the group, wondering just who was there to spy and who was there that was actually interested. Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, the Crervey brothers, Justin Finch-Fetchley, Hannah Abbott, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Fred, George and Ginny Weasley, Susan Bones and quite a few others that Hermione didn’t recognize were all staring at her expectantly.
“Alright everybody listen up, we all know I mentioned meeting if you were interested in actually learning Defense against the Dark Arts. That being said, I believe that we should all be in agreement that anything we teach ourselves is better than what that toad of a woman is teaching in her classes.”
“Agreed!” Hermoine fought the urge to roll her eyes at Fred.
“Not only do we need to know what we’re doing to pass our O.W.L.S, we need to be able to protect ourselves against Voldemort.” The entire group silenced, staring at her with wide eyes.
“How are we supposed to believe that he’s back?” Somebody she didn’t recognize yelled from the back and she glared at them.
“All we know is what Harry has told us, how are we supposed to believe that it’s true?” Justin Finch-Fletchly agreed, narrowing his eyes as he pointed at Harry.
Harry opened his mouth to speak and Hermione spoke first. “Anybody who wants to leave right now, can. Anybody staying will be signing this. If you’re not interested, leave. Because I promise you that if I find out that word gets out about this conversation I will know exactly who's responsible.” She narrowed her eyes on Justin. Ron cleared his throat beside her.
“We’ll need somebody to teach us. And if you really fought You-Know-Who last year then you would be able to show us a few things, won’t you, Harry?” Ginny spoke up, looking at Harry strangely and Hermione wondered if she was attempting to flirt with him. It wasn’t a bad idea, honestly.
“He also killed a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets saving my sister and fought You-Know-Who during our first year. I was there for that, so was Mione’.” Ron shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal. “So, unless you have more you want to suggest I don’t think we need to voice any more of Harry’s abilities to show us a few things.”
“All in favor?” Hermione’s voice was filled with something taking flight inside of her chest. Hope.
She pulls a parchment from her bag–already spelled–and glances around at everybody. “Everybody should write their name down and before anybody starts, it’s enchanted. Nobody is going to be able to read the list. There’s quite a few people here, we need to be able to keep track of who is coming and who isn’t.”
There were a few nervous glances shared between everybody and she raised an eyebrow as a line started to form. “What should we call ourselves?” Ginny’s hair dipped across the table, a pool of red against the wood as she scribbled her name onto the parchment. She stood, hands on her hips as she stared at Hermione. A few people voiced random names behind her and Hermione wrinkled her nose. “What about Dumbledore’s Army?”
Harry smiled, and Ginny flushed. “The D. A. for short. That’s brilliant actually.”